


More to Life

by Measured_Words



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Family, Gen, Healing, Injury, Workplace Health and Safety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8247827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/pseuds/Measured_Words
Summary: Mikel comes home to help his father after an accident at work.   "It's Pa...  He got hurt at work, an' they sent him home."   A cold chill passed through him – and something that felt like inevitability.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime just before or near the beginning of the fae realm adventure.

Mikel had hoped to have a short nap when he got home, before starting dinner and going out with Helgea, so of course as soon as he got to the door he could hear the telephone ringing. Chances were good that it was for Alain, but he'd asked Mikel to try and catch any calls that came through when he was around, so he wouldn't miss any important or interesting work-related messages. Fumbling quickly with his keys, Mikel managed to barrel through the door and catch in before it stopped, impressed that the operator had hung in that long.

"This is PC-0-6-5-7." He'd gotten used to the phone pretty well, and was already reaching for the notepad to scribble down the caller's name for Alain to look at later.

"Mikel? Is that you?"

He put down the pencil. The telephone could be tinny, especially if the user hadn't figured out how to best hold it, but he was pretty sure he recognized the voice – it was his sister. "Yvie? Is everything okay?"

His parents didn't have a telephone, but there was one at the store a few blocks away that you could pay a few pennies to use. Mikel had made sure his sister knew how to get a hold of him in case... Well he hadn't really been sure of what, but just in case.

"It's Pa... He got hurt at work, an' they sent him home."

A cold chill passed through him – and something that felt like inevitability. Their father worked long hours in a factory, assembling hulls for airships. It was the kind of set up where if things went wrong, they tended to do so catastrophically. He remembered all too vividly his mother's accident. This couldn’t be that bad, or Yvie would sound a lot more upset. And they wouldn't have just sent him home. "What happened?"

"I don't know – he hurt his back. He was home when I gone in from school, an' he said he was okay but I could tell he weren't really, so I have him some of mam's tea..."

That was mildly alarming – but it was unlikely to do their father too much harm, he hoped. Still, he was going to have to explain to Yvie that even if it was plants, that it was still medicine, and what was okay for one person could be really harmful for another. "Okay – I can come home and check on him.”

"Oh, good! He's all asleep in his chair an mam is still asleep too."

"I'll see you in a little bit, alright? Why don't you run out and get something for everyone for dinner?"

"Oh. Okay...."

Mikel took a deep breath, trying not to be exasperated at his sister's hesitation. He'd never have even had to be told to do something like that – or else he'd have been expected to prepare dinner on his own. But Yvie was the baby, and until he'd moved out, the expectations of her household contributions had been pretty low. "There should be some money in the coffee can above the ice box."

"Will they be okay?"

"They'll be fine – I gotta go now if I'm gonna to catch the tram. I'll be there quick as I can."

He hung up, hoping that she could figure something out on her own – she'd figured out the tea, at least.

The tram ride was crowded but uneventful. The line ended on the edge of the Shambles, and the walk just gave him more time to think. He'd been training as a Channel formally for almost a year now, and he'd been given a little bit more responsibility lately, especially when it came to dealing with healing matters. If this sort of thing happened to anyone else, and he knew as much about their situation as he knew about his father, he might have a talk to them about things like work, life priorities, taking better care of themselves. But it was his father, and he didn't know – had never known – how to talk to him about these sorts of things without if going south quickly. He handled it better than his older sister, Denise, and they hadn't had as many out and out screaming matches. But his father was difficult – he had too much pride. And too much guilt, Mikel was beginning to understand. It could be a volatile mix at the best of times. 

An injury he could deal with, but the rest of the healing might be beyond him.

Yvie was in the kitchen when he came in, but the rest of the house was quiet. She was stirring a pot on the stove, and there was a loaf wrapped in the familiar brown packaging of the corner store. As soon as she saw him, she hopped over and gave him a big hug.

"Pa's still in his chair, I think he's still sleepin'. That's where he were when I came in from school."

"Okay. He said he hurt his back?"

"Yeah. I could tell it hurt lots, even though he said it weren't so bad, an' that they shoulda just let him stay. You know how he is, goin' on about the pay he's missin an' all."

"I know. He'll be okay, Yvie. I'm gonna go check on him. Are you makin' soup?"

Mikel was half tempted to ruffle her hair when she nodded, but she was ten now and it probably wouldn't go over well. "There was old veg on at the store, so I cut off all the bad bits an' put it in, like Den used to do, an' there's bread an' some ham still."

"Sounds great. Hopefully everyone will be up and about by the time it's ready, but you just keep an eye on it for now, okay?"

It wasn't so much that the soup needed minding, it would just be easier to deal with his father one on one. Mikel left Yvie in the kitchen, slipping in to the next room. Once it had been more of a family room, and it could still serve the purpose with some notice. But for years now it had been more his father's room than anyone else's. It had always held his father's chair, and one for mother as well, but there was a cot there now for his father to sleep on. He kept his things in the bedroom still, it was just that his wife's injuries had meant that she'd needed the whole bed to herself. At the moment, though, he was sitting up in his chair, eyes staring bleary at his son.

"Mickie... what're you doin'ere?" His speech was slurred, but Mikel was surprised that he was conscious at all.

"Yvie called me, pa. She was worried for you, is all."

"'m fine." His father waved dismissively, but his face twisted in pain and he leaned forward.

"Okay." There was no sense in pointing out the obvious, partly because his father was still groggy from the tea, and partly because he was as stubborn as an oak. "Here, then, stand up."

Mikel took his father's hands, gripping them firmly. His father obeyed, scowling in confusion as his brain tried to put everything together. At least he didn't snatch his hands away, as he staggered half way through the motion. Mikel was there to catch him, bracing himself to take his father's weight. It nearly knocked the breath out of him – Mikel took after the smaller side of the family, unlike his father and his older sister.

"Yeah, real fine," he muttered, dragging the chair over closer by hooking it with his foot, and turning it so that his father could rest against the high back. It let him lean over some too, which seemed to ease the pain a little.

"Just need a rest's all, just...lie down..."

"Stay where you're at," Mikel said firmly, walking around and laying a hand on his father's back. His father wasn't the first recalcitrant patient he'd dealt with at this point, but it was a lot harder when it was personal. "I need a better look, then you can lie down."

Mikel ran his hands along the sides of his father's spine, trying to keep all his training in mind. "Where does it hurt the most?"

"Low in the back," he answered, grudgingly. "Down through to the knees."

Not _his_ knees, Mikel noted. But this was still an improvement. He already had a pretty good idea what had happened, but the way his father tensed when he pressed lightly to the side of his lower spine – the third vertebra from the bottom – pretty much confirmed it. 

"Okay. You put your back out." 

"That's what they said on the floor," his father muttered, sounding annoyed. He still allowed Mikel to help him over to the cot, probably because Mikel didn't make a formal offer which his pride would have forced him to decline. 

"Well, they were right." It could mean a lot of things – in this case, Mikel's guess was a slipped disc, though he did some supplemental examination now that his father was lying down. "They were right to send you home too – what did they say, just take it easy for a few days? Bed rest?"

"I don't need a few days," he said. "It'll be fine tomorrow."

Mikel heard 'I can't afford to take days off.' And he knew it was true. He wondered if this was the first time, or just the first time Patric hadn't been able to suffer through it quietly enough to keep going.

"If you go back to work tomorrow... or even the day after... It'll happen again, da. And then it'll happen more an' more, until it doesn't get better, and you can't work at all."

Patric didn't say anything – probably he'd seen it happen before. His jaw was set, brow furrowed – pained, angry, frustrated, worried.... probably all of that and more.

"I could fix it, da. I mean – I could fix for now. But I can't stop it happening again. Maybe not right away, but if nothing' else changes, it's only a matter of time." He let that sink in, watching his father try and work through things. "Here, then."

The healing spell was a simple one, but it was enough to fix the damage for now. Some of the tension eased in his father's face, but not all.

"That's what you've been learnin' is it?" He sat back up. Probably that was pride as well, like not saying 'thanks', or at least not right away.

"Some of it, yeah. But there's more to it than that, da. It's not enough to go around fixin' folks who're just going to hurt themselves again."

"I'll take care, Mik. You shouldn't be lookin' after me."

Not him too, anyway. Mikel had half raised his youngest sister, and he'd been the one to take care of his mother after her accident. His father had always seen working himself to death as his role – to keep them fed, keep a roof over their heads. Mikel understood the patterns they were trapped in a little better, though. Patric hadn't wanted to be like his father – a jobless drunk who drank away his family's resources – anymore than Mikel wanted to be like his. Maybe, a step at a time, they could build some better lives, but there was no sense waiting for his father to make the first move. "This is my life, da. It's what I do for all kinds of folks. Not just you. But it only works when they want things to get better." That wasn't fair thinking. He corrected himself. "Or when they see that they can."

"You think you know better, do ya?" The challenge was wary, and it wasn't serious. All the things his father couldn't say – all the things he was afraid of – were so clear to him. Behind the posturing there was, maybe, a grudging hope.

"Not for sure. But I know that there are things you can change – to make it easier on you, on mam, on Yvie... And I can see how things'll go if they keep on how they are." He didn't elaborate on that – he didn't think he needed to. If his father couldn't work, everything would fall on him, and on Denise, and it would tear the family apart. "There's more that they need from you, da, than just what workin' brings in. They need you here. It'll be worth whatever penny pinching needs to be done, for everyone." Not that they would need to pinch any pennies if his father's pride didn't stop him accepting help from his daughter. Mikel knew Denise would chip in more if it were necessary, and if she were allowed, but their father didn't want to accept her "dirty money". 

"You don't know what you're talkin' about, son," his father glowered.

But Mikel just shook his head. "I'm not going to argue. I just want you to think about it. And-" this was the hard part. Mikel tried to convince himself that he meant it, just like he would with any other patient. "-I'm not doing this again. I'm not going to help you walk down this same path over and over, when you can choose a better road."

"Is that the tone the Channels teach you to use with your father?"

Yes, but there was no sense drawing out an argument when there was nothing else important to say. Or almost nothing. "I love you, da. I just want you to take care of yourself, too."

Patric's brow furrowed – he wasn’t the kind of man who talked about soft things like feelings. They were both spared further tension and awkwardness by a new voice in the conversation.

"Mickie?" It was his mother, leaning on the doorframe to her bedroom. "What are you doing home?"

Mikel smiled, but he wasn't exactly sure what answer to give right then. But his father answered for him.

"Showin' off all that fancy Channel learnin'."

He couldn’t let that go. "Da put his back out at work. Yvie called me to come an' help."

"Oh, Patric…" His mother, still a little groggy from her medicated rest, lifted a shaky hand towards her husband. "But – you're okay now?"

He stood to come over to her, steadying her. "I'm fine, Elcie. I'd a been fine."

She looked up at him, still hazy, but with clear uncertainty and concern. "I hope so, dear." 

It was enough to quell Patric's bluster, though he still looked unhappy. Mikel just hoped that his father would think about that look, and think about what he'd said, and maybe, just maybe, he could make some changes. For the moment, Mikel tried to let it go, leaving his parents alone to go and give his sister a hand finishing up dinner. He hoped he could still salvage his plans for later, and follow his own advice: make sure there's more to life than work.


End file.
